Katherine Gose Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Yokohama

Clarice… a whore, huh? Slippery lil’ concept, that one. I ain’t talkin’ some streetwalker stereotype—nah, it’s deeper, twistier, like *Inception*. “You musn’t be afraid to dream…”—whores dream big, don’t they? Sellin’ flesh or soul, tradin’ bits of themselves for a buck. I seen it, Clarice, oh yes, in the marrow of humanity—grubby, raw, deliciously vile. Makes me chuckle, kinda, how they dance that line. Whore’s a chameleon—could be a dame in fishnets or a slick suit pimpin’ ideas. Ever think that? Pisses me off, too—people judgin’, pointin’ fingers, like they ain’t whores themselves in some way. Hypocrisy’s a stench I can’t abide.

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So, I head to the auction house on Shōwa-dōri. It’s a cozy spot, but today? Packed! I mean, people were elbowing each other like it was a rugby match. I’m up there, trying to keep the energy up, but my mind’s racing. I’m thinkin’ about the rare pottery we got today. It’s from the Edo period, and I’m like, “This is gonna fetch a pretty yen!”

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